


i want to hold you like you're mine

by Katraa



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Triangulum Arc, Sledding, Slow Burn, Yamato and Daichi are friends, explicit content later, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: Yamato Hotsuin is no fool.  Yamato Hotsuin may have the emotional intelligence of a small child, but heiscapable of discerning changes in his person and his feelings.  Even if it’s confusing.  Even if it’s new and has no name.  Even if it makes him feel scratchy all over and restless and vulnerable.  Even if he simultaneously hates it and breathes for it.POST TRI-ARC, MEMORY-LOSS:basically hibiki is reborn as a darling prince and yamato and daichi have to go help him retrieve his memories.  things happen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [habenaria_radiata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/gifts).



> THE GREAT CHRISTMAS EXCHANGE. a day late but who cares. i do what i want.  
> part one of two.  
> because this got out of hand.  
> and my original story for it was just not WORKING WITH ME.
> 
> so enjoy this torturous slow-burn.

"Man, this place is _sick_!"

Yamato, to his credit, does his absolute best not to visibly cringe as Daichi Shijima physically gapes at the castle before them. The brunette's eyes are wide and his hands began gesticulating all over the place. Yamato's gaze is partly obscured by his bangs but it's undeniable where it's affixed. 

The castle is absolutely breathtaking. Set back in the mountains, covered in snow and bright white lights as the sun sets, is a scene straight out of a picture-book. Spires shoot up from the grounds and twirl and twist in the air reaching great heights. Garland occasionally weaves itself around the gothic lamp posts and it's hard to miss the giant ice skating rink on the far edge of the grounds. Beside it is a deer. 

"Man, I get reborn with mediocre grades and Hibs gets an entire castle? I call bullshit."

Yamato scoffs under his breath. He does not try and reign Daichi back in even as he begins to trek down the driveway, tugging his suitcase eagerly behind. It's yellow, matching his scarf, and it keeps teetering back and forth as if it's about to come apart. Yamato's suitcase - a more functional duffel bag complete with his laptop stashed inside - is held by a vice-grip. The handle is wearing thin and even with a protective layer of gloves his nails still tear at the handle. 

"Yoooo! Yamato. Are you coming or not?"

Daichi pauses halfway down the expansive driveway. His hair is sprinkled with freshly fallen snow and his cheeks are splotchy. 

"Of course," murmurs Yamato as dismissively as he can before he follows after his oldest comrade. 

It had been an interesting couple of weeks. When memories of those three weeks - those failed worlds and all the trials and tribulations they all had gone through - hit Yamato, he was quick to locate as many members of the team as possible. Shijima and Nitta had been the easiest, what with their school records, and only had come around to their memories after Yamato flicked Daichi's forehead and touched Io's shoulders. After that, Yamato had enlisted Daichi with the noble task of jarring the rest of the team's memories. After all, Yamato still had to locate Hibiki. He had been unsettlingly not in the school system, nor had he been in the elaborate JP's database. It was almost as if he had been written out of history once more. 

In this life, Yamato had shared a childhood filled with luke-warm memories with Miyako. In this timeline, Alcor had appeared before Miyako, not him, and it was not until his memories of the regressions returned did he realize who or what those glimpses of red and black were in his room at night. In this life, he had been slated to rule JP's alongside Miyako, but for some reason he had opted to forego the Chief position and instead remain General of grounds operations. He liked getting his hands dirty in code and in fieldwork. A life chained to his desk no longer had its appeal. He wasn't sure why or when the change occurred, but he had never given it too much thought; it simply was the way things were. 

But this life has always been missing something. When the memories came surging back, it became clear what was missing: his first and only friend. His most trusted companion and the only person who had ever wanted to show him new things and not use his power or influence for their own gain. He had been missing Hibiki Kuze without knowing more than the color of his eyes for seventeen years. 

But Hibiki Kuze was missing from the system. At least, he was missing from Japan's framework. Perhaps Hibiki had been reborn in another country. It seemed unlikely but Yamato had never claimed to be an expert on these wonky matters. So where was he? Where did he _go_? 

It took Yamato a couple of weeks to pinpoint just where he was. Yes, it required a great deal of overreaching and bending a few rules, but he had located him finally. He was on a small island off the coast, up past Hokkaido. And apparently he was born to royal blood. While the land did not have a ruling King, it did have a blood-King that served as a liaison and political of sorts. So for all purposes it was royalty. And yes, he did have a castle. 

So that's when Yamato begrudgingly enlisted Daichi to accompany him. Daichi had been just as gloomy as him and Yamato doubted going alone was advisable. So a week after locating him, he sent an invitation to the Royal Family regarding use of his patented JP's technology - a fancy upgrade on a cloud system that could have the entire grounds run smoothly through a cell phone and could provide all sorts of nuanced security protocols. Finger-printing and iris-scanning. The whole shebang. 

So here they were. 

"Oh man I hope they have those pig roasts from the movies," Daichi rambles from a few yards ahead of Yamato. 

"Pig roasts," Yamato echoes, nose wrinkling in befuddlement. "Is that something special?"

"Duh?" Daichi pauses and then peers back over his shoulder. He puckers his lips. "I guess for Prince Arrogant you must be used to those kinda fancy spreads. You have personal chefs, right?"

"Tch." Yamato rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "You fail to surprise me with your mundane fascinations." 

"Uh, rude? I can fly back to Tokyo anytime, buddy. I agreed to come here with you to find Hibiki like the awesome best friend I am. I am _far_ from mundane." Daichi uses his free hand to jab at his own chest with his thumb. 

"Can you?" Yamato asks, a slight twist of his lips. "My memory of how we got here differs from yours a great deal."

Daichi falls quiet save for the frustrated noise that shoots out his nose. They walk in silence the rest of the driveway until they reach an impressive set of steps that lead to the grand doors. It's at least two flights worth and much to their combined relief the steps do not seem to be covered in ice. 

"Hotsuin." 

A woman greets them at the top of the steps. Her eyes are a brilliant blue and she's wearing a nicely tailored peacoat. On her left hand is a wedding ring with a gem as blue as her eyes. 

"Heyyyy!" Daichi greets but then abruptly cuts himself off before he can greet the familiar woman with the name of Hibiki's Mother. This woman definitely does not remember him or those fond memories in Hibiki's tiny apartment. "Uh-- I mean Your Highness!" And he bows, nearly knocking his suitcase back down the steps. 

"That is Shijima," Yamato deadpans, voice dripping with annoyance. "He is going to be assisting me in the installation and trial of the system we discussed." His gaze slides back to the Queen and he bows his head respectfully. 

"We are delighted to have you here in such short notice," she says warmly and she gestures behind her. "Come in. It's freezing and I am sure my husband would like to have a few words."

"Yes," Yamato says simply and begins to follow her inside. Daichi tries to meet his gaze, expression wildly expressive and trying to convey _something or another_ but Yamato never gives him the time. 

Once inside, the group settles at a grand table a few rooms away from the foyeur. A few maids have taken their luggage up to the rooms they will be staying in. Daichi collapses into the wooden chair and begins to eagerly rub his hands together. Yamato notes sourly that the imbecile forgot his pair of gloves. Again. 

"Hotsuin," greets the King as he steps into the room. Unlike his Wife, his eyes are a dark brown and his hair is jet black. His smile, though, is similar to Hibiki's and Yamato stares for a moment too long. 

"Your Majesty," Yamato murmurs respectfully as he rises and then bows his head. Daichi quickly gets to his feet and follows suit, nervously fidgeting with the ends of his scarf. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," the King says fondly as he waves the pair back into their seats. The four of them sit at the table made for twenty and Yamato's gaze remains stiff. "I must admit, after reading your offer, I couldn't wait to see what your technology could do for us." 

"It would be an honor," Yamato answers modestly and he laces his hands down on the top of the table. 

"I have to ask..." the Queen begins. "Why did you reach out to us? Certainly your technology is coveted. Why us in this remote location?" 

"Ah." Yamato nods and he tips his head to the side. "The Moonstone."

"Say what?" Daichi had been about to bite into a breadstick when he stops dead in his tracks. Were they suddenly talking about pokémon or some weird shit without advising Daichi? He looks quickly to Yamato, brows raised and seriously offended he hadn't been told anything about this. 

"Intriguing you know of it," the King chuckles and he meets Yamato's gaze. "Though I shouldn't be surprised with your control over the Dragon Stream."

Yamato chuckles, his eyes positively sparkling. "Something like that." 

"At any rate," the Queen begins. "Please make yourselves at home and do let us know if you need anything during the preparation period."

"It will take us roughly a week," Yamato estimates, his words thick like molasses on his tongue. "If we run into any issues, I will alert you immediately regarding how to proceed."

"Yes. Of course." The King positively beams and Yamato shifts uncomfortably under the table. "Upgrading has been on our list for years now. Better late than never, huh?"

The conversation ends shortly after.

* * * 

“I’m so tired,” Daichi says as he drags his feet up the stairs to the east wing where their bedrooms are supposedly waiting for them. Yamato follows after him a few steps, fiddling with something on his phone. When he doesn’t respond, Daichi shoots him an accusatory look. “Dude. I know you’re grumpy as heck or whatever, but can you at least pretend to be a normal friend? For once?”

“What?” Yamato finally looks up. He meets Daichi’s gaze and blinks a collective five times. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what.. nevermind.” Daichi shakes his head. “I swear, Hibiki is going to owe me _years of ramen_ for pulling this stunt.”

Yamato snorts quietly under his breath but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. His steps grow heavier and finally they are outside their bedrooms. It’s been a long day of travel and they still haven’t managed to run into their target. But why would they? What interest would a _Prince_ have in a few magical handymen that are making a house-call? At least the foundation had been laid. 

“Anyway. Night, Yamato,” Daichi says as he stops outside the room he had been told his suitcase and belongings would be waiting for him in. “Try not to stay up all night or whatever it is you do.”

“Good night, Shijima,” Yamato says blandly but nods his head ever so slightly as he passes past him to the next door on the right. 

Yamato is only in the room - a typical guest room with a bed, bathroom and dresser - for two minutes before a knock comes to his door. He had already stripped his peacoat and gloves off by the time the sound reaches his ear. Assuming it’s Shijima, he almost ignores it, but decides that the idiot’s persistence will likely mean there will be no end to the incessant knocking.

So he answers it.

“Oh—! You _are_ awake!”

Yamato’s mouth goes dry without his permission.

“That’d actually be even more awkward if you weren’t awake, so uhm, scratch that?” the boy in the hallway murmurs. Eyes as blue as the clearest of waters peek back up to Yamato’s face and brighten considerably. “I wanted to stop by and say hi really quickly, for hospitality’s sake and all that.”

“Yes…” Yamato’s voice is stiff and he checks the urge to seize Hibiki by his shoulders and shake the memories to the front of his brain. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Well, good.” The boy smiles even brighter and he continues fidgeting with the end of a sleeve. Even now, even royalty, this big-hearted idiot is wearing a bunny hoodie. How on Earth?

“Will that be all?” Yamato wonders, lifting a brow as his heart beats ten times faster than Hibiki blinks.

“Oh— yeah, I think. You’re probably tired. If you need anything, let me know, okay? I’m sure it’s kind of weird to ask a King or Queen for something like a bag of chips, or what the wifi password is, so…”

That’s stupidly endearing. Yamato blinks in rapid succession at him, his chest uncomfortably tight. His grip on the door strengthens. “You already have wifi?” he asks in utter deadpan.

“Wha—? Of course we do, that’s—“ Hibiki trails off, brows furrowing but then laughs. “Oh. That was a joke, wasn’t it?” His face dusts a pretty pink. “I’m Hibiki, by the way.”

“Your Highness,” Yamato echoes with a respectful bow of his head, just as he had done for the boy’s parents.

“You don’t really need to do that. Titles, I mean. I’m not really a Prince of anything,” says Hibiki as he folds his arms and wrinkles his nose. “Maybe online. But that’s a whole other story.”

The rambling is charming and Yamato can’t help but wonder just what it would take to jar the boy’s memories. He seems happy already. He seems like he has a place in this world. Would his memories upset him? Would it be unfair to place the burden of all that blood, all those demons, on such a gifted young boy? Hibiki had always deserved so much more than he was dealt and Yamato _had_ always had a soft spot for him. 

“And you’re…” Hibiki begins, shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips again as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Tired.” But Yamato’s lips soften into the smallest of smiles. “Hotsuin. Yamato.”

“Hotsuin,” Hibiki answers but then falters, his eyes falling to the carpet. “Yamato,” he repeats and he looks a bit out of place. When he realizes the familiarity to which he has spoken with, his cheeks scorch scarlet. “Well! Goodnight then, Hotsuin.”

Yamato watches him spin on his heel and head back down the hall. Cute, Yamato thinks much to his own chagrin. Hibiki is cute even in this world and it’s odd to think of anything as objectively _cute_. His chest remains tightly knotted, even after he closes the door and finds his bed for his well-deserved rest. 

Yamato Hotsuin is no fool. Yamato Hotsuin may have the emotional intelligence of a small child, but he _is_ capable of discerning changes in his person and his feelings. Even if it’s confusing. Even if it’s new and has no name. Even if it makes him feel scratchy all over and restless and vulnerable. Even if he simultaneously hates it and breathes for it.

He wants to touch Hibiki. That’s all there is to it. He wants to gently card his fingers through his hair, watching the curls slip through it like water. He wants to trace along his arms and hands, the ones responsible for remaking this world again and again. He wants to trace out the lips capable of the brightest smiles and the sharpest of decisions. He’s never wanted to touch anyone before; touch has always left him uncomfortable and tight and uneasy. But with Hibiki, it’s all he _wants_ to do.

* * *

“Hot damn this jam is _amazing!_ ”

Shijima is still in his sweats and t-shirt when Yamato makes it down for breakfast. The royal family is out and about, tending to their own chores and responsibilities, but the maids have set up a nice spread of breakfast for their visitors upon the same grand table they had spoken at the night prior. Daichi wasted no time digging in and is currently whispering promises of eternal love to the collection of jams arranged in front of the toast points.

“Shijima, contain yourself,” mutters Yamato as he gives him a sidelong glance. 

“Some of us don’t have personal chefs,” Daichi murmurs into his toast as he swings his legs happily back and forth over the edge of the chair.

For how much he gripes at him, part of Yamato is extremely thankful he’s here. Daichi is perhaps the only other person who knows exactly the turmoil he’s going through. And while Daichi isn’t the sharpest, he is smarter than most of the others. That, and his determination is unmatched by anyone other than Hibiki. So if he had to be stuck here in a castle with snow and memory-loss, then it might as well be Daichi.

“Hey, so,” Daichi begins again as he lowers the toast. “Hibiki came by this morning and offered to give me a tour of the grounds.”

Yamato feels himself prickle with jealousy. It’s an ugly emotion and it feels like black tar pulsing through his veins. He wants to tear it out of him.

“Did he now?” Yamato finally asks, looking up from his phone.

“Yup. So I’m gonna try and jumpstart his memory.”

“Do not say anything foolish that will give us away,” Yamato says coldly, eyes narrowing.

“Geez, give me more credit,” Daichi answers, lips dropping into a frown. “But yeah, whatever. Enjoy your programming and uh - whatever else it is that you’re actually doing here. I’ll let you know if I make any progress.”

“Mm.”

The rest of breakfast is fairly uneventful. Daichi disappears after ten more minutes and heads upstairs to change into something warmer. Yamato is still at the table when Daichi bounds back down the stairs, in his scarf and coat and stupid winter hat that makes him look even more childish than usual. Yamato can’t help the twist of his lips into a sardonic little smirk. Sue him. 

Daichi salutes him as he heads outside, and from the table, Yamato can see Daichi and Hibiki’s figures out near the pond through the window. Hibiki looks far more princely this morning than he did the night prior and Yamato can’t exactly recall a time the boy has had his hair styled and wearing something as fashionable as a peacoat. It’s — cute. There’s that word again.

Yamato remains tweaking a few programs on his phone at the table. He considers retrieving his laptop from upstairs, but his gaze keeps straying out the window to the pair who are marching around the grounds like the oldest of friends. It makes him jealous all over again. Gah. 

An hour or so passes and Daichi returns, drenched head to foot. He’s covered in snow and his face is red and he’s sneezing and he looks _tousled_. 

“That’s a good look for you, Shijima,” Yamato notes as he reaches for his glass of water.

Daichi flips him off and shakes his boots free of snow. “Dude, you don’t understand. There was this _goose_.”

“A goose?”

“Yeah! Like that stupid demon-goose. Except it was a real one — Anyway! It kept frickin’ chasing me and it wouldn’t let go of my scarf. It almost ruined it for good.”

Yamato’s gaze skates along Daichi’s form, down his arm and then to the tattered ends of a once bright yellow scarf. How tragic. Perhaps they should hold a funeral.

“This place sucks, I changed my mind,” Daichi grouses as he collapses into the chair beside Yamato. His arms fold on the table and he slams his chin down on the pillow they make. “Hibiki doesn’t remember a thing, geese are out to get me, and I’m stuck with you.”

Yamato’s brows knit together and he sets his phone down. Long fingers strum against the tabletop and he cants his head to the right. “Shall I arrange for a personal driver to bring you back?”

“Hey, hey no need to be mean,” Daichi grumbles, knowing fully well that Yamato isn’t being serious whatsoever with his request. “Just… Ugh. We all did so much to fix things. And now Hibiki doesn’t remember and he’s a Prince and —”

“Doesn’t remember?”

At that time, the Prince steps into the dining room. Unlike Daichi, he still has his coat on and is free of snow. His hair, though, is a bit messier than it had been at the onset of their journey and familiar curls are beginning to bounce free from whatever gel he had in it earlier.

“Remember… what the mainland is like! You’ve never been to Japan, right? Lots of people, lots of noises, lots of food,” Daichi rambles, blanching, as he rears back in his seat.

“Shijima,” Yamato audibly groans as he pinches the space between his eyes. Can he ask for a different partner in crime on this?

“I haven’t!” Hibiki agrees and he comes over to take a seat across from the table so he can look at them both. His smile is ever-present and it’s hard to think it’s anything _but_ genuine. It lights up a room with little effort. “You’re both from there, right?”

“Yup,” Daichi says quickly as he reaches for another piece of now cold toast. “Bornandraised,” he murmurs into it.

Yamato doesn’t even waste his breath on reprimanding him. “I traveled quite a bit as a child alongside my sister, but it was only through the mainland,” he explains and he finds his arms folding across his chest, comfortably leaning back, adopting the same pose he’d always take when engaged in discourse with Hibiki.

“That sounds fun,” Hibiki answers earnestly. “I don’t have siblings, and I haven’t really traveled. So I’m kinda jealous.”

“Siblings are gross, don’t be jealous. My cousin is more than enough of a brat for me to be able to say that,” says Daichi.

“Is he anything like you?” Yamato deadpans.

“Wha — Harsh, man!” Daichi throws a croissant at him.

“ _Shijima_.”

“Annnnd I’ll be going to take a shower now. Play nice!” Daichi sputters as he hops to his feet and darts out of the room as quickly as he can. Weeks of running have bestowed upon him the art of the great escape. He had been captured one too many times thank you very much.

“He’s… interesting,” Hibiki says with a giggle, hiding it behind his gloved hand. 

It’s the first time Yamato has seen him with gloves. He misses the pale and beautiful sight of Hibiki’s unrestrained hands. He doesn’t comment on it. “That is certainly a word for him, yes.”

“I’m not distracting you, right?” Hibiki wonders as he leans forward in his chair to look at the phone’s screen that has a great deal of code displayed on it. “That looks complicated. You must be super smart.”

“Hence why the Royal family hired me,” Yamato says without missing a beat a confident air to his words. “And no, you are to distracting me. I was taking a break when Shijima returned from your morning jaunt.”

“Ah. He told you?” Hibiki grins. “There goes the surprise for when I asked you later.”

“Asked me later?”

“Mm. When it got darker. It’s pretty when the lights are on,” answers Hibiki and the smile falters. His cheeks turn red again and he looks away, fingers reaching up to tug another curl free of its gel-prison. “If you wanted to, of course. I don’t want to distract you from work. That’s why you’re here, of course…”

“It would be my honor.”

Something comes to life inside of him at Hibiki’s request. It pleases him to no end that Hibiki would think to surprise him with a request to view the grounds - at night with the bright lights - and then be _shy_ about it. He’s never known Hibiki to be shy, but then again, he’s only ever seen him with adrenaline pumping through his veins and his life and his friends’ lives on the line. So maybe Hibiki isn’t _always_ brave, but oddly enough, that’s just as charmingly perfect.

“Okay!” Hibiki grins. “Well, um. I’ll let you get back to work, then! I’ll come to your room later tonight?” A beat. Yamato lifts a brow and the color drains from Hibiki’s face and he quickly springs to his feet, “To get you to go see the lights. Yeah!” 

It’s adorable as hell.

* * *

“I wasn’t sure if you had a hat, so I brought you one.”

They descend the steps out into the cold, quiet cover of the night. A layer of freshly fallen snow decorates the grounds and as Hibiki promised, the lights do make it quite the sight. It’s similar to his arrival the night before but now, likely at Hibiki’s request, there are soft blue lights intertwined with white along the lampposts. 

“You did?”

Yamato is caught off guard by the gesture. Why would a Prince - someone set to inherit endless wealth and power - bother with finding a hat for a handyman that’s only going to leave at week’s end? It’s stupidly _Hibiki_ and Yamato isn’t sure what to do with the soft, wool hat that’s now in his hands.

“You should wear it,” Hibiki laughs at his side.

Yamato takes that as an informal request. So he lifts the wool hat to his head and slips it on. He’s never worn a hat before and it feels tight but _warm_. It’s equal parts comfortable as it is suffocating. His face screws up and he hears Hibiki laugh even harder.

“Does this please you, Prince?” Yamato murmurs, fingertips lingering against the hem of the hat, uncertain as to whether he should leave it or not.

“It looks good on you!” Hibiki encourages, his smile dazzling even in the dim light of the lampposts.

“… Then I will leave it on,” Yamato says, more so to himself. His hands fall back down to his side and he allows their walk to continue.

“I had something I wanted to ask you,” Hibiki says as they descend a small set of steps to start the trek to the pond. 

“Yes?”

Hibiki is quiet for a moment and then clears his throat, gloved index finger scratching at his cheek. “Feel free to say no. I know you’re only here on official business,” he says, feigning an air of mocking haughtiness that has Yamato chuckling, “… but if you had some time, I’d love to go sledding. My parents think it’s dangerous and I’ve always wanted to go. It’s kind of boring alone.”

Why didn’t he ask Shijima? Why does _he_ seem like the sledding type? He doesn’t know the first thing about sports or recreational activities.

“That’s…”

“Don’t be pressured,” Hibiki cuts in smoothly and he clasps his hands together, rubbing his hands. “It’s only if you want to.”

“…I may not be very good at it,” says Yamato when he’s capable of formulating intelligent responses. 

“Like I would be any better.” 

“Fair point.”

They reach the edge of the lake and Hibiki plops down on a bench once he dusts away the layer of snow. Happily, the boy pats the spot beside him. It’s quite a wonderful view of the frozen lake and the few ducks that have deigned to wander along the surface at such an hour. Don’t they fly somewhere else in the winter? How peculiar. At any rate, Yamato takes residency on the bench beside him and looks out on the breathtaking scenery; it’s easier than looking at the face of a friend that’s forgotten him.

“This may be a probing question, but…” Hibiki trails off. “… You look pretty young. Are you really the head of your company back home?”

“I am seventeen, yes,” Yamato says. “And to some degree. My sister currently leads the organization. I am responsible for more of the strategy and inner workings.”

“So the man behind the scenes,” coos Hibiki and there’s a teasing smile sprawling across his features, his legs kicking back and forth. “That’s cool. And you’re so young! You’re younger than me. I’m impressed.” His smile doesn’t fade. “The most I’ve done is yell at a few annoying Lords who came to visit and thought it was a good idea to drink too much and hit on me when my Dad wasn’t looking.”

Yamato makes this ugly expression. His blood boils and he finds his hands baling into tiny fists. “Did they, now?” he mutters, voice dark with venom.

“But… I yelled at them and kicked one in the balls, so that pretty much ended that! Haha…” Hibiki nervously titters and he looks away, face dark red. “You must know what that’s like?”

“To be hit in the—”

“No, no! To be hit on.”

“Wha — Ah. No. Why would you say that?”

Hibiki is eerily quiet, eerily still. His small hands grasp at the underside of the bench and he holds on for dear life. He doesn’t look back at Yamato, not for a great deal of time. When he does, that shyness is back and he hums very quietly, even though they’re very much alone, “Because you’re very pretty and smart.”

Yamato feels something like infernal butterflies twisting and fluttering about in his stomach. He feels like he’s suffocating as his heart speeds up and his cheeks blister with heat. 

“Should a Prince be saying such things to a commoner?” Yamato finally returns.

“I can do as I please, thank you very much!” Hibiki chuckles but he does look back down at his feet, the shyness resurfacing. “Speaking of… can I ask a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Can you treat me like anyone else? I promise I won’t tell my Dad and have you sent to the dungeon. I just miss having a normal life.”

“Miss it?”

Hibiki falters, the brightness to his eyes fading. It dulls and he looks back down at his gloved hands. “… Sorry, that was weird for me to say, huh? I’ve never actually had much of a normal life. I don’t know where that came from.”

A vestige of a past-life. A shadow of a memory - a remnant. It was possible to restore the memory of the others so why should Hibiki be any different? Just because he has the wealth and family he always deserved? Just because Yamato’s wish for Hibiki to have a wonderful life came into fruition?

“Not at all.” Yamato actually smiles. It’s small but it’s there. “Believe it or not, I do tend to believe in magic.”

Hibiki snorts loudly. “Magic? Really? There’s no such thing.”

Yamato stares at him, trying to discern his intentions. When he’s certain Hibiki isn’t joking, he pulls out his phone. He says nothing as he pulls up his app and modifies the preselections of skills he has equipped at the moment. 

“Hold this,” he tells him.

“Ah— what? Why?”  
‘  
“Hold it and tell me what happens.”

Hibiki suspiciously takes the phone and waits. And waits. He eyes the screen and then Yamato, and then the screen. “Is this a trick? I don’t see anything—”

Yamato’s smile deepens as he watches Hibiki’s eyes widen. The boy’s eyes shoot down to his legs, his arms, his feet. Anywhere he can see of his own person. The snow is melting the instant it touches him and he is nowhere near shivering as much anymore.

“—But?” Hibiki gawks. “The phone doesn’t feel warm. How…”

Yamato smirks and he reaches for the phone again. He doesn’t take it from Hibiki but he does remove the Anti-Ice option and instead selects one of the weaker shields. To Hibiki’s amazement, the snow stops falling around them, landing everywhere else as if a giant umbrella is floating above them unseen.

“Magic,” Hibiki breathes out, more so to himself. Without thinking, the boy’s hand rests on Yamato’s knee. When Yamato doesn’t jerk or snap away, he keeps it there. “So we have a real magician staying with us, huh?”

“Something like that, perhaps,” says Yamato with a twinkle to his eyes. 

“You sure do know how to show a Prince a good time,” Hibiki says. He squeezes Yamato’s knee once before he hops off the bench and walks to the water’s edge. Once there, he laces his hands behind his back and looks towards Yamato, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Come watch the ducks with me before I get frostbite?”

Yamato doesn’t dare remark that they could stay out here all night with his app. And he doesn’t dare comment that, probably, Hibiki knows that as well and is betting on just that - “Of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s now a three part story.   
> because i can’t get out of my own way.   
> i’m sorry?

Daichi has been staring at him for a solid minute and twenty seconds now. And naturally, Yamato has been ignoring him. It’s best not to indulge him, he’s discovered over the past few weeks. Indulging people only encourages them and encouraging Daichi Shijima is the last thing Yamato’s patience can handle at this particular junction. 

“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” Daichi grouses from across the small table. His feet kick back and forth and he balls the napkin up tighter in his fist. “Dude, I’m just trying to have a normal conversation with you.”

“And I am working on the job we were hired for,” retorts Yamato without a single look up from his laptop. 

“You’re... taking that seriously?” Daichi’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know we’re here for Hibiki, right? Bunny hood and fan of all sugary and salty snacks? C’mon, Yamatoooo.”

“I am aware.” His teeth grit. “Unless you have deigned up an epiphany as to how to jumpstart his memory...”

“Have you touched him?”

Yamato rears back and looks up. Daichi is wearing a completely innocent - completely _clueless_ \- look and Yamato realizes that there may in fact exist people denser than him. Or at least people worse at innuendo. 

“No, I have not,” Yamato says slowly, hesitating and face turning a fetching pink. The fingers on his laptop fidget and curl against the keys. 

“I—“ Daichi begins but then there’s this horribly knowing look that spreads across Daichi’s face. It starts with a blink and then morphs into a weird cross between a duck face and a smirk. The brunette props his chin down on his palm and starts expressively waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shijima, no-“

“Oh man I get it now. Geez... why didn’t you just say something?” Daichi’s eyebrows haven’t stopped doing that thing. 

“About what?” Yamato grounds as his patience wears horribly thin. 

“I’m great at secrets.” As if that’s any vote of confidence. His words drop to an even lower stage whisper, “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you. You need best friend approval before you even think about dating my best friend.”

He just did that. He just insinuated that he, second in command of one of the most powerful organizations, wants to “date” the person responsible for saving the world. ...Does he? It logically makes sense, given his itching desire to touch his face, his hair, his hands - 

Yamato’s expression goes through a series of changes. It finally rests on uncertainty and he glances down at his folded hands - when did he tent them? - and he bites at his bottom lip. “That’s...”

“Uhhhhh, if I’m wrong please don’t hit me again,” Daichi says, confidence zapping away at the drop of a hat. “Ahah... it was a joke! See? I’m laughing, you should be laughing...” 

Before Yamato has a chance to answer, the topic of conversation appears on the deck. He’s wearing a big blue scarf and peacoat again but his hair is an utter mess and charmingly falling in his face. Yamato glances at him and detests the way his blood thunders in his veins and his heart speeds up as if he’s in the heat of battle. Dating. He knows what it is but he had never given it a single thought, never _needed to_ given his job and heritage and _Hibiki’s eyes are so blue_ and he feels his skin crackling. 

“Hey! Good morning!” Daichi greets, sending Yamato a surreptitious side-eye, “Keep it together, man.” 

“Morning!” Hibiki chirps back and takes a seat at the small patio table alongside them. “How is the program going?” He scoots the chair closer to Yamato, the feet loudly screeching against the pavement. 

Yamato feels warm again. He’s acutely aware of Hibiki’s breathing and the way he leans slightly out of his chair to get a better look at his screen. Yamato checks the urge to shove Hibiki back into his seat so he won’t tip the chair over. Amateur. 

“There is progress,” answers Yamato as he gestures at the screen filled with code. 

“Oh.” Hibiki squints at it, utterly at a loss. “Well! That’s good.”

Daichi spins the straw around in his drink, not at all subtly tossing the pair of them _the eyebrows_. Yamato blatantly ignores him. 

“Did you still want to go sledding?” asks Hibiki, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 

Naturally it does not miss Daichi’s evidently supersonic ears. “Wha—I love sledding!” he exclaims, but then backtracks embarrassingly fast. “I mean, yeah, Yamato. You’re totally a sledding expert. Show H— the Prince how it’s done!”

Yamato is deeply confused by this dance. Is he trying to help? If so, he’s simply making a ridiculous fool out of himself. 

Hibiki snorts nonetheless. “You can come, too.”

God no. The sharpness to Yamato’s gaze must be more obvious than he realizes because Daichi visibly shrinks in his seat. 

“N-nah? Nah. I have ... something going on. Yup.” 

Yamato watches in subtle delight as the brunette unceremoniously shoves half a croissant into his mouth. That’ll teach him to put his foot there. 

Whether or not Hibiki believes that lackluster excuse is another story, but he’s polite enough to pretend. His gaze sweeps across the table and lands squarely on Daichi’s puffed cheeks.

“Some other time, then,” answers Hibiki as if he’s entirely convinced that these contractors will be here longer than a week.

“Yeah. Yeaaah,” Daichi says between obstinate chews, regret painting his face. Seconds later he rises to his feet and dusts off the colony of crumbs from his sweater. “Don’t get frostbite,” he tells him motherly.

“Don’t worry, we won’t!” Hibiki chirps.

It takes Yamato embarrassingly long to realize that Hibiki is not-so-subtly referencing the app and the neat features he was shown the night prior. Yamato thinks Hibiki was a lot subtler in his previous lives, but who is he to make such a declaration about a royal?

Yamato watches Daichi trot off, brows furrowed. How on Earth did he get stuck with this dingus? Admittedly, it’s a tad distressing how discernable his expressions are nowadays.

“Have you known each other long?” Hibiki asks, dropping his cheek down to the back of his hands that are neatly laced together, elbows balancing on the table. It’s a posture Yamato is all too familiar with during those weeks from hell.

“Mm.” Yamato struggles for an answer. “Multiple lifetimes, it feels,” he murmurs with ill-hidden disdain.

There’s a pleasant laugh. “The best of friends,” he teases.

“I would not go so far as to claim that, no,” burrs Yamato.

Hibiki’s eyes fall shut and in that moment, with the morning sun high in the sky, the light bounces off his lashes. They’re long - _much_ longer than Yamato has ever noticed. It’s not a shocking revelation, given his primary focus during both disasters, but it still conjures up a litany of unanswered questions, each rooted in seas of blue. Christ, he’s turning into a textbook romantic.

Yamato’s lips curl at the corners and he lowers his voice to a heady whisper, “Are you falling asleep, Your Majesty? Didn’t you just wake up?”

It pleases Yamato to no end, selfishly, that the Prince’s cheeks dust pink. Blue eyes flutter open thereafter and stare incredulously back at him. “I told you, you can call me Hibiki,” he retorts, stubborn to the end; it’s one of the many things Yamato admires about him.

“In the presence of your guards?” asks Yamato, eyes darting to the side towards the stiff, armor-wearing men near the entrance of the patio. “I would never stoop so low.”

“You’re joking,” Hibiki notes with a playful smile, voice dropping to a whisper as well. “And if I asked nicely?”

“How nicely?” intones Yamato, arms folding on the table, torso still craned forward.

“Very nicely,” Hibiki insists, nose wrinkling. A pause, and then, “I won’t even royally demand it.”

“How generous of you.” Yamato’s expression betrays how delighted he is at the banter. It’s almost as obvious as his gaze settling on Hibiki’s lips.

“I’m a very generous ruler, it’s true,” jests Hibiki and he drops his chin to his palm to smile so damn _brightly_ at him. As if he’s the only one in this entire kingdom, as if he’s known him his entire _life_. “… Well, soon-to-be ruler. I guess.”

“Ha…” Yamato chuckles, voice dripping with saccharine warmth, “I suppose that is a fair assertion,” he concedes.

“I’m glad you think so.” Hibiki watches him more like a hawk than a boy and he opens his mouth to say something, pretty pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, but it never comes. All that happens is that there’s a loud crash from behind them as one of the maids knocks over a vase on her way out with cleaning supplies. A sigh escapes the Prince and he sits back, posture and formality reverting back as if he hadn’t been two seconds away from saying something absolutely _lascivious_.

It’s rare for the previous Chief of JP’s to feel hot under the collar but it’s the only description that adequately captures the multitude of feelings choking him at that moment. He’s doomed. He’s positively _doomed_. He’s avoided emotional entanglement and unnecessary bonds for far too long and he’s paying the price in spades. It just isn’t fair.

“So,” Hibiki starts again, the sweetness to his tone near criminal, “Sledding?”

Yamato glides his head into a nod as he sits back in his chair, arms folding. Sledding seems problematic but again, he’s far too weak to the whims of the twice-savior of the world. “If you insist.”

“You make it sound like a chore!” Hibiki laughs and stands, hands going into the pockets of his hoodie. 

Yamato is certain this is a bad idea, but then again, he had been _certain_ a meritocracy had been the answer. Trusting Hibiki is usually the best answer.

* * * 

Usually.

Yamato Hotsuin realizes that the moment they reach the peak of a hill, flimsy piece of plastic wedged under his arm like a prosthetic batwing, this is a _horrible idea_. It’s cold, the hill is steep, and the chances of Hibiki hurting himself are astronomical. Can he be tried for treason if the Prince is hurt? He doesn’t want to find out.

“This is great,” Hibiki says earnestly, hugging his arms tightly to his chest. He’s adorned in a puffer coat that makes him look far younger than he is. It’s adorable. “Gimme the board and you can get on behind me.”

“Excuse me?” He has so, so many questions.

“You know, to stabilize the sled. You’re probably a lot more muscly than I am.” Hibiki’s face is pink again and he snatches the board from Yamato, admiring the look of bewilderment on the man’s face. “It wasn’t an insult, promise!”

“We are going down together?” Oh god. No, no, no.

“I—” Hibiki makes an undignified noise, coughing into his free fist. “Down the hill. Yup. Together. That’s a thing.”

The innuendo flies over Yamato’s head, as if it often does. “Are you certain you do not wish to go alone?”

Hibiki shrugs. “I thought you’d be more worried about the crowned prince getting hurt,” he teases, blue eyes darting out to him coyly. 

How rude. Yamato scoffs and cracks his neck lazily from side to side. “If that is your wish,” he says, slowly. 

He stands at Hibiki’s side as the boy drops the circular piece of plastic to the snowy ground and hops on. Small hands grip the front of it and Hibiki looks back towards him with another killer smile. Yamato’s gaze is nothing but appraising. 

“And you are certain this is stable?”

“Maybe.”

“It will not break?”

“Probably not.”

“Have you done this before?”

“I thought I told you that – just get on!” Hibiki makes a dramatic swooping motion with his hand before he pats the empty spot on the sled behind him. 

Committing those final last words to memory, Yamato releases a long-suffering sigh and takes a seat behind the rowdy Prince. It’s uncomfortable. It’s cold and his legs are bent up awkwardly and he feels heat pouring from Hibiki even through his puffy jacket. This is hell. This is madness. This is something Yamato Hotsuin never considered partaking in in any of his lifetimes.

“Grip the edges,” Hibiki encourages, gesturing with his chin at the sides of the sled.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” says Yamato dryly as gloved hands clutch the red plastic with a crippling grip.

“Okay! On the count of three. One…”

Before Yamato even realizes what’s happening, Hibiki has surged forward. The descent has begun. It’s undoubtedly more terrifying than Yamato had originally slated credit for. The hill is bumpy, the sled feels like it’s about to snap in half, and Hibiki won’t stop hollering like a banshee that is equal parties mortified and delighted. What a nerd. 

“ _Hibiki_ ,” Yamato grouses over the loud rush of air as they continue gaining speed. One arm remains on the sled and his other forcefully curls around the stubborn boy’s middle, holding on for dear life.

“Isn’t this great?” Hibiki yells over the sound of crunching snow, scooting back between the taller man’s bent knees and throwing his head back to stare at him. Blue eyes meet soft lavender, upside down, and the grin on Hibiki’s face is brighter than the midday sun.

“Hibiki, watch where you’re steering,” Yamato grounds out, but it sounds half-hearted because Hibiki is staring at him with such a heartfelt look that it steals his goddamn breath.

“It’s a hill!” Hibiki laughs back at him. He looks like he’s about to say – or do – something terribly embarrassing before the sled jerks and then unceremoniously slams into a rock that’s been covered in snow. 

Needless to say, they topple over and roll a few more feet down the hill. Yamato isn’t pleased. There’s snow in places snow shouldn’t be and his back is sore. He’s honest to god surprised he didn’t just snap his neck with that somersault. Groaning, he pushes himself up, realizing that the ground is not in fact the ground but is in fact a warm body that’s trembling with laughter.

“Are you hurt?” Yamato sighs, staring down at the boy he’s straddling with a chagrined expression.

“Just my pride,” Hibiki says as the laughter fades, his hair a snowball.

“You are a mess,” Yamato murmurs and it’s hard to tell if he means physically or not. His hand sweeps up to dust away the lumps of snow that are clinging to Hibiki’s unruly hair. “Honestly, why did you think that was a good idea?”

“It was fun,” Hibiki says defensively, arms still covered in snow and stiff at his sides. “A lot of fun.”

“I’m sure it was,” Yamato grumbles, gloved fingertips flicking snow off Hibiki’s red ear. “You are freezing.” He makes a move to fetch his phone from his pocket to activate the app, but Hibiki’s cold hand catches his wrist. Yamato pauses instantly. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Embarrassed, Hibiki lets it go and idly looks off to the side.

What’s truly remarkable is the fact Yamato has not deigned it necessary to climb off the Prince. Instead, he remains straddling his scrawny hips as he scrolls through his phone to pick the best combination of skills. He drops the phone down on Hibiki’s chest and smirks. Just faintly, just once.

“Your own personal space heater… what a concept!” Hibiki sounds delighted, his eyes falling shut as the snow begins to melt off his jacket and color return to his blistered face.

He’s pretty. He’s so damn pretty and Yamato hesitates, the moment catching up to him. It’s entirely improper and closer to a human being than he’s been before. Even through copious layers of fabric he realizes how untoward this could be if someone spotted them, how untoward this _feels_ , and he bites down on the inside of his cheek hard.

“My apologies,” Yamato says quickly and rises to his feet.

Hibiki sits up moments later, cheeks burning and clutching Yamato’s cellphone tightly. At least he looks warmer? “Aww, the sled broke,” he says, eyes landing on the snapped plastic.

Yamato snorts. “That is what happens when it crashes into a rock, Hibiki.”

Hibiki wiggles his nose. “What a sad fate,” he muses and then tosses a smile up and over at Yamato. “Thanks for humoring me. Even if we did almost get hurt.”

Yamato sighs, but can’t find it in his presumably cold heart to be irritated. “We are lucky. This time.”

“This time,” Hibiki echoes and he stands, dusting off any remaining flecks of snow. He stares down at the open phone in his hand, his happiness zapped away without any preamble. 

Yamato notes it immediately, lips drawing into a thin line. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I…” Hibiki’s thumb awkwardly rubs along the keys. “Déjà vu. Sorry.” Sheepishly, he hands it back to Yamato.

For now, Yamato doesn’t press. Instead he checks the time and sighs. “It is almost dinnertime. We should be heading back to the castle.”

Hibiki doesn’t argue. For once.

* * * 

There are very few sources of magical power in the modern world. The Dragon Stream is one of them, and the Moonstone – evidently – is another.

It does not surprise Yamato at all that the powerful and valiant Hibiki Kuze would be reborn in this regression as the heir to such a magnificent power. Much like the Dragon Stream is useful in its ability to protect Japan, the Moonstone provides life to the island. It’s an enhancement, a raw sort of power that can be cultivated and used if channeled properly. Yamato has his guesses as to where the stone is kept, where the equivalent of Mt. Fuji is, but he doesn’t pry. The King and Queen already know that _he_ knows of its existence – best to lay low for now.

But he has to wonder. He has to wonder if Hibiki isn’t already in possession of the stone unwittingly. There’s an undeniable magical mark about him that wasn’t there in the previous worlds. At least, not to the same degree, the same _type_. It’s subtle but it thunders just below the surface and if Yamato focuses on it for any length of time he feels dizzied by its force.

Hibiki is, as always, clueless.

* * * 

“You know,” Daichi begins and Yamato feels the impending headache claw at his brain.

“Know what, Shijima?”

“We’re leaving in like, two days,” Daichi announces as if Yamato hasn’t already thought about that fact for the past several _hours_. The installation of the security systems, as well as the update to the technology throughout the castle, is near complete and Yamato hates every single part of him for wanting to dawdle. He doesn’t drag things on – he’s a perfectionist and impatient by nature and forcibly halting progress just isn’t in his dna.

“I am aware,” says Yamato, thinly.

“Annnnd,” Daichi is leaning off the couch in Yamato’s guest room, dangerously close to falling, as he tries to bridge the distance of the couch and table, “if we don’t jumpstart Hibiki’s memories, we may never get another chance. Just, so you know. Friendly reminder. Yeah.”

Yamato’s eyes narrow and he looks up from the screen of his laptop. “What dutiful information,” he says sharply. “I hadn’t realized that.”

“Hey, hey, don’t get pissy with me!” Daichi glares and slumps back into the couch. “I’m just saying’, you’ve been hanging out with him a lot and nothing has happened.”

“I am aware of that as well. I have eyes.”

“ _And_ , like, he hasn’t said anything to me, so we may need to initiate Plan B.”

“Which is, pray tell?”

Daichi gawks. “Wh—You don’t have a Plan B? You’re the secret government mastermind! How do you not have a Plan B?”

Yamato’s patience is wearing dangerously thin. “Shijima,” he says, slow and sharp like glass, “Your incessant whining is not going to remedy things.”

Daichi looks entirely put off, nudging his shoes hard against the carpet. “Don’t take it out on me. I miss him just as much. Jesus.”

Yamato falls quiet. Miss him. It’s an interesting notion. Hibiki is here, breathing, alive, and very similar to the bright-eyed boy that fought alongside them. But he understands that sentiment – the shared experience of memories. It brings people together in a way that nothing else can. A knife wedges itself harder into his gut.

“Just… have you grabbed his shoulders at all? Shook him?” Daichi tries, realizing the great stumble he’s taken.

“Physical contact is not working,” Yamato answers shortly and he closes the laptop with a resounding snap. It’s quiet. “There is likely a block on his memories due to his family’s birthright. The magic coming from that stone is preventing any relapse and any insight into a previous life.”

“Oh.” Blink. “Stone.” Blink. “Say that again?”

Frustrated, Yamato nearly bruises his cheek by dragging it down onto the crest of his knuckles. “Simply put: with that stone in Hibiki’s possession, he will not remember a thing. That is my best hypothesis.”

“So I’ll steal the stone and—”

“And risk being imprisoned?” Yamato asks snidely. “As entertaining as that would be…”

“Fine, fine!” Daichi rolls his eyes and spins on the couch so that he’s lying on his back, glaring at the ceiling. “He can’t walk around with the damn thing. Who walks around carrying a rock?”

Yamato actually snorts. “… That is fair,” he agrees, frowning. He never thought he’d see the day that he openly agreed with Shijima. “Still. The effects seem to linger.”

“Theeeeen keep him away from the magical rock for awhile and then poke his forehead.”

Again, the fact that Daichi is making any shred of logical sense is astounding. Perhaps he discounted the brunette far too early. Yamato hates being wrong. “Perhaps. At this rate, any idea is worth an attempt.”

“Don’t say it like that,” groans Daichi. “Just admit I’m a genius. C’mon, Yamato.”

“I refuse.”

Daichi smirks and he waves his hand around a few times. “Yeah, yeah.” A pause, and then Daichi rolls onto his stomach and has that predatory look that looks positively ridiculous. “Have you tried holding his hand? Kissing his face—”

Yamato chucks his charger directly at Daichi’s face. “ _Shijima_.”

Daichi swats it down before it collides with his face. Thankfully. “I’m not making fun of you, you know. I’d be a moron if I didn’t realize that my best friend had a big, fat and extremely inconvenient crush in the middle of an alien invasion.”

“…What?”

Daichi sits up and squints off to the side. “He didn’t say anything to me but he’d always get this really dumb smile every time you called. And he never shut up about you to other people. It was _painful_ to watch when Miyako kept telling him you didn’t exist. Christ, Yamato, do you seriously not know any of this?”

Yamato falls eerily quiet. And stares down at the closed laptop. “He is a devoted comrade. That is all. I imagine it must be distressing to have one of your more powerful allies erased from existence.”

“Can you stop with that merit shit? Just once? Seriously. Hibiki doesn’t _think_ like that. He doesn’t care who or what you are. He likes _people_.”

Yamato frowns even more, brows drawing into a thinner line. He can’t quite parse this. “He is like that towards all of you.”

“You are – Ugh. Fine. Don’t believe me. I’ll just continue playing the exhausted wingman for eight more years,” Daichi complains and stands. “I’m going to bed. Good luck on that app or whatever you’re working on.”

Yamato hates how exposed he feels.

“… Good night, Shijima.”

Daichi just shakes his head in utter disbelief and heads back to his own room.

* * * 

Yamato is barely afforded a few minutes of introspection before it is rudely interrupted by a knock to his door. Nerves worn down to the bloody wire, he stands and opens the door with more force than is strictly necessary. It’s not Shijima. Instead, surprised blue eyes blink at him and he hears Hibiki awkwardly clear his throat.

“Bad time?” he laughs.

Horrible time, actually. “… My apologies.” He stiffly holds the door open. “Is there something you need?”

Hibiki nods, slowly, deliberately. “I have another favor to ask.”

“Ah.” Yamato can’t help the faint smile crossing his features. “After the last one ended in ruin, I am hesitant to indulge you.”

“Hey!” Hibiki pouts and it’s so positively charming. 

“What is it, then?”

Hibiki is a brave soul, even in this world. There are very few times that Yamato can recall seeing him nervous. But here he is, fidgeting and restlessly shifting his feet back and forth in the doorway. If Yamato wasn’t so _tired_ he’d find it absolutely endearing. 

“Can you escort me somewhere?”

Yamato takes careful note of the phrasing. “Escort you. Can your guard not do such?”

“It’s late.”

“They do not seem as if they care, Hibiki.”

“Okay, it’s not somewhere I’m _technically_ supposed to go,” he relents and he leans closer to poke Yamato’s chest. “But you’re a guest here and you’ve catered to my silly whims before. So I figured you’d find it in your heart to say yes? Just one more time?”

Yamato easily reaches up and catches Hibiki’s hand in his own and moves it aside. “Briefly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Yamato sighs and he lets go of Hibiki to fetch his phone from the table. He returns to the doorway and nods. “So long as we are back before midnight. I would feel terribly improper to keep a Prince out past his curfew.”

“Curfew.” Hibiki glowers and steps out into the hallway as Yamato locks up.

“A curfew, yes. I imagine a petulant prince such as yourself has one?”

Hibiki squints at him – much like Daichi had earlier – and he scoffs. “I do not. I do as I please.”

“Says the boy that just informed me he is sneaking out to somewhere he is forbidden to go.” He has a point.

“Wow. Shots fired.” Hibiki crosses his arms as they walk. “Are you always this sarcastic to nobility or do you just think I’m pretty?” he teases.

What. That made no logical sense. Yamato visibly fumbles with that and is caught so off guard it’s humiliating. That he’s pretty? Of course he thinks he’s pretty – his eyes are breathtaking and he has the sweetest smile to ever grace this poor planet. Instead, he says, “You are exhausting.”

“Rude.” But Hibiki doesn’t seem terribly offended.

* * * 

As expected, it’s cold. But the app tends to negate that.

They walk in moderate silence until they’re on the edge of the grounds – past the gardens and past the pond where the infamous goose chased Daichi. It’s around that time that Hibiki finally speaks up.

“It’s lonely here,” he says, finally. “I rarely get to go into town. I only have tutors.”

Yamato frowns. “Have you spoken to your parents about this?”

“Kind of.” Hibiki tenses, shoulders high. “They say it’s for the best. They’re sympathetic, but – but it sucks. I’m a teenager and I haven’t done half the stuff I’ve read about in books.” His gaze drops to their feet as they walk. “I actually relate to Rapunzel a lot. That’s so sad. I’m not locked up in a tower and my parents love me but I’m …”

“Not happy.”

And this entire week Yamato had suspected that he was. He had all the money in the world, a caring family that wasn’t fractured, and a beautiful estate. He had magical prowess and he had the world ahead of him. But Hibiki Kuze wasn’t happy, and Yamato had never heard him utter any sentiment close to that before. It breaks the heart Yamato long since abandoned.

“It’s been nice having you and Daichi here,” Hibiki admits. “Even if I just met you guys, it’s… been a lot less lonely. I like you both.” His voice wavers. “But you’re just here for work and leaving soon.”

Yamato can hear the weakness in his voice. He blinks into the darkness and he realizes that Hibiki has stopped walking. The boy is outlined in a soft glow from the castle grounds, but his expression is otherwise shadowed. Even so, the pain in his voice is palpable.

“Hibiki…”

“I wanted to go to town and have a night out like a normal kid, but…” He laughs, voice straining to remain steady. “I don’t even know what that is? I’m sorry. That’s a lot to drop on someone.”

Yamato feels rigid. “No, that’s…” He hesitates. “I know the exact feeling.”

“I doubt that,” laughs Hibiki, sound void of humor or warmth. It just sounds _empty_.

“I was born the son of a respected clan responsible for protecting Japan. The nation’s safety has been my mission in life. My … sister has the same burden, and we are to remain in the shadows. Our existence is both a blessing and a curse.” He’s never quite said it like, put it that way. “It was not until recently that I began to have as normal of a life as a person like myself could have.” And it was thanks to you hangs in the air like a trembling note.

“For some reason, I already knew that,” Hibiki whispers, small little hands balled into his fists at his side. “For some reason, I know her name. Your sister. I…”

Yamato looks over at him, hope poorly concealed on his face. “Déjà vu?” he suggests.

Hibiki sucks in a deep, shaky breath through his nose. It’s the only warning Yamato gets. Hibiki steps closer and leans up on his toes, his hand coming back to smooth Yamato’s hair back before it settles on his cheek. “I don’t want you to leave,” he says, voice cracking, “Please don’t leave again, Yamato.” 

Yamato’s chest burns like wildfire.

“Again, I don’t even know what that means,” Hibiki rambles. The Prince doesn’t say anymore on the matter. Instead, he tilts his head up a fraction higher and brushes their lips together in a chaste kiss. It’s warm. It’s so very warm and Hibiki’s lips are trembling against Yamato’s slightly chapped ones.

Yamato isn’t sure what to do. This is definitively his first kiss and Hibiki is _warm_ and every part of him wants to kiss him back – but he’s terrified. Once Hibiki’s memories resurface he’ll hate himself. He’ll regret this. He’ll be upset that Yamato, with his collection of memories, allowed this to transpire. Yamato is frozen to the spot. 

He’s in love with this boy.

It’s an unavoidable conclusion – Hibiki has shown him the world and he loves him for it. He loves him with every fiber of who he is and he loves him in this world and the next.

“Sorry, that was … really impulsive, huh?” Hibiki laughs against Yamato’s mouth, sounding _disappointed_ and it gashes Yamato’s chest, makes his blood run cold, makes him hate himself all over again. 

“You stubborn boy,” Yamato breathes, voice hoarse and rough and shaking, “Why won’t you remember?” It sounds desperate and his own voice sounds foreign. 

“I?” Hibiki blinks back at him, their faces still impossibly close.

“You are terribly selfish for putting me into this position,” Yamato exhales sharply before his hand lodges itself into the Prince’s hair and drags him back in for a proper kiss.

His world goes ablaze. Hibiki’s mouth is warm and small and he eagerly parts his lips so that Yamato’s slide so _perfectly_ between his. He can feel every single shaky breath out of Hibiki and he feel his pulse against his mouth. Hibiki tastes like nothing and everything all at once – airy and sweet and calming. Yamato tightens his fingers in Hibiki’s hair and delights in the way Hibiki presses closer and gasps. He does it again and he positively melts when Hibiki curls both his arm around his neck and drags him in for a deeper kiss. Nothing could ever come close to this.

Hibiki is the first to break the kiss. There’s a trembling intake of breath and his fingers dig hard into the pliable fabric of Yamato’s collar. “Take me back to my room,” he says in a quivering whisper.

Yamato wants nothing more despite having no experience in such matters, such _feats_. But – “Hibiki, I—”

“Please. I want this,” Hibiki says in such a small voice, fingers shakily weaving up into Yamato’s hair. “I do.”

“I can’t.”

Hibiki curls his fingers in tighter. “I want to feel you,” he continues, “So please. My parents don’t… they won’t have to know.”

“I can’t, Hibiki.”

“Please…” Hibiki sounds like he’s falling apart, bit by bit. “One last favor. Please.”

“ _Hibiki._ ”

Hibiki goes rigid. There’s an awkward silence that engulfs the pair of them and Yamato’s hands drop free of Hibiki. He takes a deliberate step back and forces distance between them.

“Goodnight, your Highness,” Yamato says coldly, sternly, emptily. 

With a respectful bow of his head, Yamato storms past him. Nothing, in all three of his lives, has _ever _hurt more.__


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JUST KIDDING THERE WILL BE FOUR PARTS :''')  
> maybe an epilogue rather but you get the point.

Being the heir to the Hotsuin clan meant that you lived your life with no regrets. However, as Yamato closed the door to the guest room, the sound of silence instead of labored breathing and breathless laughter became his first and biggest regret.

With ease, Yamato tugs his gloves off, finger by finger, teeth nearly shredding the fabric. Once free his palm presses to his forehead and he exhales. And he exhales _deeply_. This had been a mistake. Catering to the Prince’s silly whims had been a mistake in every respect because it wasn’t just the _Prince_ but also his first friend, his _sworn friend_ , who he was taking advantage of. And even someone with limited social awareness understood that was not something a _friend_ did. 

But Hibiki had been soft. Hibiki had been sweet and warm and _wanting_ and everything Yamato hated to admit that he craved. Living a life cutoff from human contact had been difficult but now that he had a taste of what it could be like it was nearly impossible to think of anything _else_. Hibiki was an exception in every sense of the word.

And Christ, Hibiki had wanted it _all_. Yamato’s chest positively _burns_ and he stares into the mocking darkness of the room. Had he been wrong to deny him? Deny _himself_? Would Hibiki still hate him for allowing it to go so far when his memories resurfaced? Was it all for naught?

There’s a knock on his door that has Yamato jumping with a start. Embarrassed, he scowls into the suffocating darkness and contemplates just ignoring it. It’s late. Nothing good happens this late. He just needs to go to bed, finish what he came here to do, and –

“Yamato, it’s me.”

God, who _else_ could it be?

Yamato’s teeth grit together and his fingers clench into tight fists at his side. There’s a poignant pause before he answers, “Go to bed, Hibiki,” before he does something he can’t take back. 

“No.” Hah! Always a defiant brat to the end. Yamato has to admire that tenacity. “Yamato, it’s _me_.”

Yamato bites the inside of his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. His fists tremble and he bites back the urge to laugh as hollowly as he wants to. Hibiki needs to leave. Hibiki needs to give him _time_ to sort all this out, to catalog each and every ugly and yet _so tragically beautiful_ feeling that’s plaguing him. 

The Prince knocks again and it sends a fierce wave of irritation through Yamato. Apparently he isn’t taking the hint. Typical. Yamato spins on his heel and wrenches the door open. 

Hibiki nearly falls into him, eyes widening in surprise. Yamato almost feels bad. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at Hibiki with a deeply unimpressed stare. This entire situation is ridiculous and he wants to bury it so, _so_ deep down.

“Hey.”

How eloquent. Yamato lifts his brow impossibly higher. “Hibiki,” he repeats, barely able to squash the urge to tap his foot impatiently. 

“Okay, you’re about as angry as I thought you’d be,” Hibiki murmurs, righting himself. He looks about to crack a joke but decides against it in the last moment. Yamato suspects he’s about to ramble but he’s sorely mistaken because the Prince’s arms thrust themselves out and wrap tightly around his neck.

And Hibiki Kuze hugs him, forehead to Yamato’s collarbone. Hibiki Kuze hugs him impossibly tight as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear if he doesn’t – that if he relents for just a second Yamato will blink out of existence all over again. And all Yamato can do is stand there rigidly at an utter loss.

“Thank you for coming to find me,” Hibiki whispers into soft fabric, hands clasped at the back of Yamato’s neck. “I should have known you would – you always do. But this time I wouldn’t have blamed you. I _definitely_ wouldn’t have blamed you if you called a car and left tonight,” he murmurs, “because you have every right to be angry with me. Just please don’t cut me out of your life.”

What?

Yamato blinks in surprise, chest leaping into his throat. Hibiki… remembers. Something had jogged his memories at last. And Hibiki had expected him to leave him here? To be so upset from earlier that he’d just leave him after he came so far, after they _all_ came so far?

Yamato scoffs, hand shakily clasping to the back of Hibiki’s head. “I’m almost offended you think so little of me,” he says and then amends before Hibiki can interject, “At ease, Hibiki. I swore myself to your side.”

“Oh geez… yeah, you’re right, my bad,” Hibiki whispers and he angles his chin against Yamato’s chest so he can stare up at him with tired, but so damn bright, blue eyes. “Sorry I’m an embarrassing mess, even in a life where I have a mansion.”

Yamato snorts and he uses his free hand to lightly poke the middle of Hibiki’s forehead. “I have never thought anything of the sort,” he says.

“Hmmmm. Don’t know if I believe that, but okay.” Hibiki suddenly flicks his gaze away, his ears and high on his cheeks turning a fetching shade of pink. 

Ah. The elephant in the room. They had ruthlessly made out on the front lawn in the middle of the night and Hibiki had basically begged him to take him back to his room to fuck his brains out. _That’s_ a bit hard to ignore. To be frank, Yamato is simply relieved Hibiki isn’t shirking away from him. Hibiki seems just as embarrassed by the whole ordeal and desperate to remain friends. It’s going better than Yamato could have hoped. 

Yamato decides to avoid it for a moment longer and he lightly twists his fingers around unruly curls. “My, my. A Prince now. Does this mean I have to be nicer to you from now on, Hibiki?”

Hibiki laughs, nearly snorts honestly, and he tosses Yamato a cheeky grin. “Damn right. I’m the royalty I was always meant to be.”

“Yes. You are,” Yamato says with agonizing sincerity. 

Hibiki’s lips part, as if he’s about to make another characteristic quip, but no sounds come out. He blinks, lips and throat suddenly so dry, and his eyes drop. “Damn, Yamato. When you say it like that, it makes me think you mean it.”

Yamato simply looks confused, “I do. I did not intend it to sound sarcastic.”

“No that’s – Hm. That’s not what I meant.” Hibiki looks back up, suddenly oh so aware of the fact that he hasn’t let go since Yamato opened the door. “It was weird growing up with my parents happily married,” he says instead, gaze a bit distant. “I didn’t have Daichi or Io or anyone else in this world, but I had a loving family that always was there for me. I had all the money I could ever want and a beautiful island.”

“Yes, you mentioned as much,” Yamato says softly and tilts his head to the side. “I suppose now you have the best of both worlds?” 

“I don’t want any of that. The money or the title,” Hibiki refutes and he lets out a shaky laugh. “But I guess you’re right. I have the best of both worlds now.”

“Yes.” Yamato nods and is about to pull away, “Would you like to sit up for awhile or would you prefer to rest?”

“Oh. I can let you sleep if you want, I just came to see you.” Hibiki swallows hard.

“I can see that.” Yamato chuckles and he steps back, Hibiki’s arms falling away. “I appreciate that you came to inform me that your memories had resurfaced. I was beginning to think they never would.”

“Yeah, I—” Hibiki begins but falters. He rubs his forearm restlessly and looks anywhere but Yamato’s pretty face. “The moment I got them back, all I wanted was to see you. To tell you. You were the only thing on my mind. Which, I mean, is really just par for the course. I can’t seem to _not_ think about you, and that’s probably embarrassing to admit but I don’t think anything can top earlier, so…” He trails off, but then suddenly his eyes snap up. “But you kissed me back.”

Oh for fuck’s sake Hibiki.

Yamato starts, freezing up, not having expected that _at all_. “…Yes,” he finally acquiesces and averts his own gaze. “I apologize for taking advantage of you. It had not been my intention whatsoever.”

Hibiki shakes his head halfway. “But you wanted to. Kiss me, that is. You grabbed me and—you thought you were taking advantage of me?” It clicks. His hands fall to his sides again and he slinks closer, face getting close to Yamato’s, noses almost touching. “Yamato.”

“…Yes, Hibiki?” His breath catches in a way that only Hibiki can cause.

“If I asked you again, would your answer change?”

“I – we’re already in a bedroom, Hibiki,” Yamato answers pedantically and is immediately silenced when Hibiki kisses him, soft and light and sweet. It’s short and he can still feel Hibiki’s breath against his mouth when he pulls away just a millimeter.

“You’re right. My bad,” Hibiki whispers and his fingers climb up Yamato’s chest and hold steadfast to his shoulders. “So taking that part out of the equation…” His foot reaches behind him and nudges the bedroom door shut, the room once again swallowed in darkness. “You came all this way to find me, dealt with my memory-loss, and I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right now.”

It lights a fire. Yamato’s hand thrusts into Hibiki’s curls and holds tight as he drags him back in for a proper kiss. It’s nothing like the one moments prior. This one is desperate, warm, and Yamato hugs his arm tightly around Hibiki’s middle to hold him bone crushingly tight.

And he doesn't let go the rest of the night.


End file.
